The Bet & Other Stories
by TARDISBlueBox
Summary: Collection of mostly unconnected one shots, in which the Doctor discovers that losing a bet can have painful consequences, Clara discovers that Time Lords make for terrible roommates and Missy discovers that all you need to enjoy Planet Earth is a hip flask and a smartphone. Varying genres and themes.
1. The Bet

It was a relatively quiet afternoon on Denmark Street. There were a few shoppers around, though it was far from peak activity. As such, no one noticed the large blue police box materialising outside one of the many music shops on the street, obscuring a window full of retro guitars.

The TARDIS' door opened and Clara Oswald stepped out, a guitar amplifier bearing the logo of Magpie Electricals in one hand and a battered white Panama hat in the other. She set the amplifier down beside the TARDIS and turned to look back through the open doors, her arms folded.

"Come on then," she said. "Out you come, we haven't got all day."

"I'm not doing this, Clara." The Doctor's voice came through the door, the man himself remaining in the control room.

"Yes, you are. You lost the bet, remember?" said Clara. "There's no backing out, we shook on it."

"Doesn't matter," said the Doctor. "I refuse to humiliate myself in this way."

"Oh come on," said Clara. "Your honour's at stake here Doctor. Wouldn't want people to think you're not as good as your word, would we?"

The Doctor's head appeared in the TARDIS' doorway.

"Clara, I'm pretty sure that this is defined as cruel and unusual punishment," he said.

"First of all, it's not punishment," said Clara. "And second, if you don't want to do this, you can always take the forfeit instead."

"What's the forfeit?" asked the Doctor.

"You have to spend three days in Sherwood Forest with Robin Hood," said Clara.

"Not under any circumstances," said the Doctor.

"Well, you're just going to come out of there and do as we agreed, as we shook on, aren't you?"

"I won't."

"Fine," said Clara, making to go back into the TARDIS. "Robin Hood it is then."

"No! No, wait!" the Doctor exclaimed, before sighing. Then he stepped out of the TARDIS and into Denmark Street.

Clara giggled as the Doctor blinked in the bright sunshine, before looking down at the travesty of a coat he was wearing. The patchwork-rainbow nightmare preferred by his sixth incarnation had been unearthed by Clara the night before, procured from one of the many storage rooms that littered the TARDIS' corridors. It was still as vibrant as the day his predecessor had pulled it from the TARDIS' wardrobe, to the Doctor's discomfort. He cursed himself for not throwing the damned thing into a supernova the very minute he'd regenerated. The strap of his guitar hung around his neck, and he was trying to use the musical instrument to cover up as much of the coat as he could.

"There, that's not so bad, is it?" said Clara, struggling to contain her laughter.

"I'm in hell," said the Doctor. "How anyone can think of this as an acceptable piece of clothing is far beyond my range of understanding."

"You used to think of it as the height of fashion," Clara giggled.

"When I was younger!" the Doctor protested. "I was naive, foolish and severely lacking in taste."

"How times change," said Clara, reaching down and placing the hat worn by the Doctor's seventh self upside down by the amplifier. She switched the amp on, before straightening up again.

"I'm going to get coffee," she said, holding out her hand. "TARDIS key."

"What?" said the Doctor, his face becoming panicked.

"TARDIS key," said Clara. "I don't want you dodging the bet and hopping back inside. Besides, the last time one of us went for coffee, _someone_ took the TARDIS and didn't reappear for two weeks."

"At least you're asking nicely this time," the Doctor grumbled as he placed the TARDIS key into Clara's palm. "What now?"

"Start playing," said Clara, pointing down at the Panama hat. "If you make enough, you can buy us lunch."

* * *

Clara rounded the corner of Denmark Street, two coffees in hand and stopped dead. A small crowd had surrounded the TARDIS, and Clara could see a few phones out to video. The air was filled with the sound of an electric guitar solo - Queen's 'Brighton Rock' if she wasn't mistaken.

The Doctor had a huge grin on his face as his fingers raced up and down the fretboard of his guitar, the sonic sunglasses perched on his nose. The little crowd was loving every minute of this strange man, with his loud coat and even louder guitar.

The Doctor powered through the last few notes of his solo, ending on a lingering power chord. This was rewarded with a loud cheer and a round of applause from the crowd, swiftly followed by the clinking of coins as they landed in the Panama at the Doctor's feet.

"Thank you, thank you!" he called, as the crowd began to disperse. "I'll be here all week - not really, I'm only saying that."

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," said Clara. The Doctor's head whipped around - he seemed surprised to see her.

"Err, no I'm not," he stammered. "Just putting it on - you know, for the crowd."

"Yeah right," Clara grinned handing him his coffee. She looked down at the Panama - there was a substantial amount of coinage lying inside.

"Looks like you've done pretty well for yourself," said Clara as she crouched down and lifted the hat, giving it a little shake.

"Is it over? Can I take this thing off yet?" asked the Doctor, a glimmer of hope crossing his face.

"Nope," said Clara with a shake of her head. "Lunch first."

"You drive a hard bargain, Miss Oswald," said the Doctor, frowning. Clara opened the TARDIS door and stepped aside to allow him to place the guitar and amplifier inside.

"Come on, there's a cafe just down the street," said Clara. "I think two sandwiches are just about within our budget."

"Let's make it quick," said the Doctor. "I can't take much more of this coat."

"I think it suits you," said Clara with a sly grin. The Doctor scowled at her.

"Don't push your luck," he said as he closed the TARDIS' door again.

"Come on Joseph," said Clara, nodding up the street.

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"You're probably right."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ **Just a quick little oneshot I whipped up during a bout of insomnia. Hope you enjoyed. :-)**


	2. Can I Stay The Night?

Someone was knocking at Clara's door - hammering and hammering in a frenzied beat.

"I'm coming, I'm coming, keep your hair on!" Clara called as the knocking continued. She grabbed the handle and twisted, pulling the door open. The Doctor was standing on the other side, his fist raised, frozen mid-knock.

"Hello Clara," he said, his voice unusually subdued and quiet.

"Doctor?" said Clara in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

The Doctor mumbled something, his voice too quiet to hear. He seemed to have become rather interested in the tops of his Dr. Martens' boots.

"Doctor, you're mumbling," said Clara. He looked up at her, seeming very innocent and lost.

"Can I stay the night?" he asked. Clara was taken aback.

"What?" she said, too quickly to stop herself. "Why?"

"I didn't set the TARDIS stabilisers properly," he said, putting his head into his hands. "I was coming to see if you wanted to go to the Eye of Orion for a holiday, but as soon as I arrived, the TARDIS jumped a timetrack."

"And in English?" said Clara, folding her arms.

"It shot forward in time, to roughly midday tomorrow."

Clara almost laughed at him. She managed to stop herself this time, limiting any outward appearance of her amusement at his predicament to a barely contained grin.

"You mean you're actually stuck?" she said. "You're actually going to have to stay here with the rest of us?"

"Well, don't rub it in!" the Doctor protested. "I prefer the term 'marooned', by the way."

"Come in then," said Clara, standing aside and allowing him into the apartment.

"Thank you," he said as he stepped through the doorway.

"Don't mention it," said Clara.

"Fine, I won't," said the Doctor. He seemed a little unsure of himself - whilst he'd been in Clara's flat before, it had never been under these sort of conditions.

"This is... Nice," he said, looking around the hallway. "Have you got new wallpaper?"

"Nope," said Clara, manoeuvring around the Doctor and going into the kitchen.

"No, I didn't think so," he muttered.

"Tea or coffee?" asked Clara from the kitchen.

"Tea," said the Doctor. "Six sugars, no milk."

"Sorry, six?" said Clara, leaning through the kitchen doorway.

"Sweet tooth," said the Doctor.

"You may as well make yourself comfortable," said Clara, pointing towards the living room. "Take a seat."

* * *

Clara came into the living room, two mugs of tea in her hands. She handed one to the Doctor, who had seated himself on the sofa, and sat herself down in the armchair opposite the television.

"Thanks," said the Doctor, tipping his mug in her direction before taking a sip. There was a moment's silence between the two of them, before Clara burst out laughing.

"What is it?" said the Doctor. "What's so funny?"

"It's you!" said Clara. "I never thought I'd see the day; you having to sit still for more than five minutes."

"I'm capable of it," the Doctor protested. "I've done it before; I spent a year with the Ponds."

"Yeah, but it wasn't this you," said Clara. "This Doctor has the attention span of a fish."

"I hate it when you're right," the Doctor muttered, sitting back and taking another sip of his tea.

* * *

Clara had ordered Chinese for their dinner - the dirty plates were resting on the coffee table now. She was sitting on her armchair, reading a first-edition copy of Sense and Sensibility, which bore the author's signature on the inside cover along with a rather intimate and precious inscription. The Doctor was on his feet, standing by the bookcase - he lifted one of the many novels that lined the shelves down and flicked through the pages, from cover to cover in the space of a few seconds, nodding slowly as he did so. Then he set the book back in its place and lifted another, repeating the process until he'd skimmed through every single one of Clara's books.

"Done," he announced, flouncing down onto the sofa again.

"Already?" said Clara, looking up from Sense and Sensibility. "You only started five minutes ago."

"I know," said the Doctor.

"You've really read all of those books?"

"I have a gift."

There was a moment's silence before the Doctor spoke again.

"What should I do now?" he asked.

Clara peered over the top of her book, raising an eyebrow.

"What?"

"I've read all of the books, Clara," said the Doctor. "I need something else to do."

"TV?" said Clara tossing the remote over to him. The Doctor caught it, and began to flick through the array of channels.

* * *

"There's nothing on," said the Doctor.

Clara set the book down with a thump on her lap.

"Doctor, there's more than a hundred channels!" Clara protested. "There must be something you can watch!"

"But Clara, it's all rubbish!" the Doctor exclaimed. "The airwaves are being choked by the most inane nonsense you lot can come up with."

"Hey!" said Clara. "I happen to enjoy some of this stuff."

"Have you undergone some sort of lobotomy?" asked the Doctor, gesturing at the TV. "You actually watch this stuff, in some misguided attempt at entertainment?"

"Doctor, it's not all bad," said Clara. "It might look like much, but this is the best that humanity has to offer; drama, music, arts. It's not inane nonsense, far from it."

The Doctor clicked through a few more channels, before stopping on one in particular. A familiar set appeared on the screen, and the Doctor turned around and looked at Clara with a triumphant smile on his face.

"Look," he said. "This channel's running a twenty-four hour marathon of 'The Jeremy Kyle Show'."

Clara brought her book back up quickly, blocking the Doctor from her view. She didn't want to admit it, but maybe he had a point.

* * *

Clara popped her head around the living room doorway. The Doctor was still on the sofa, the sonic sunglasses on his nose.

"Doctor, I'm going to bed... What are you doing?" Clara asked.

"Hmm?" said the Doctor, looking around in surprise, his eyebrows shooting upwards. "Oh, I was watching a film."

"On your sonic glasses?" said Clara.

"Internet enabled sonic glasses," the Doctor corrected, by way of an explanation. "Sorry about the bill, in advance."

"Wait, what?"

"Nothing."

Clara sighed.

"You can sleep on the sofa," she said. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight Clara," said the Doctor.

"Goodnight Doctor."

* * *

Clara opened her eyes and growled to herself. She could hear him in the other room, muttering and talking aloud. She pulled a pillow around her head, hoping to drown out the noise, but it was no good.

Clara threw the covers back angrily and got out of bed. She opened her bedroom door and went into the hallway. She walked into the living room and switched the light on, a furious scowl on her face.

The Doctor was kneeling by the window, looking out over London with his hands clasped together before him. He was still talking.

"... Or the Sontarans, or the Zygons - Cybermen even! Just not the Daleks, they're a bit grumpy."

His eyes snapped open, looking out the window. For a moment there was a glimmer of hope behind his eyes, though it quickly faded.

"Doctor, what are you doing?" asked Clara.

"Praying."

"... What?"

The Doctor turned around and looked at her.

"I'm praying," he said.

"For what?" asked Clara.

"Something to happen," said the Doctor. "An invasion, a crash, something - anything, anything to alleviate the crushing boredom."

"Doctor, just go to sleep," said Clara. "Please."

"Clara, I'm a Time Lord. We only need eight hours of sleep in every eight months," said the Doctor.

"Then use your eight hours now!" said Clara.

"Can't," said the Doctor. "I used them last week."

There was a moment of silence.

"My ninth self must be turning over in his grave," said the Doctor. "This is far more domestic than he'd ever have allowed."

Clara rubbed her eyes, and looked at the clock on her mantelpiece.

"Doctor, it's half past two," said Clara. "If you make a peep between now and eight a.m, I won't be held responsible for what happens to you."

"Is that one of your angry faces?" asked the Doctor. "It's just, you've got a few, and I can never be sure if I've seen them all yet."

"No, this is my 'I've just made a threat and I mean it' face," said Clara.

"Oh. I'll add it to the collection."

* * *

Clara's eyes opened - oh thank god, it was daylight. She sat up and looked over at the alarm clock on her bedside table. It was a quarter to nine; Clara had to admit she was impressed.

Then she smelt something, a burning smell on the air. Cursing herself for daring to believe that everything in the flat was going to be all fine and dandy this morning, she got out of bed and grabbed her dressing gown from the hook on the back of her bedroom door and went into the kitchen.

It looked as though a bomb had gone off in one of the cupboards. Two frying pans were set atop the cooker, a rather disquieting array of ingredients (seemingly picked from the cupboards at random) sizzling away. The counter was covered in a dusting of flour, and it the fridge was hanging open - and standing in the middle of it all, was the Doctor. He was glancing between the frying pans and the toaster, and he too was covered in flour.

"Doctor, what are you doing?" Clara shouted. "This place is a mess!"

He looked around in surprise.

"Oh, you're awake," he said. "That's a shame, I wanted to surprise you."

"Really?" said Clara sarcastically. "I'd like to say that nothing with you surprises me anymore, but this time you've proven me wrong - consider me well and truly surprised."

"Oh, that's alright then, I will."

"No, Doctor, it's not alright!" said Clara. "You've destroyed my kitchen!"

"No I haven't," the Doctor protested. Clara gestured around at the mayhem.

"Then how do explain this?" she asked.

"It was like this when I got here," said the Doctor. "Well, sort of. Not really. Everything was more… tidied away, before."

"Exactly," said Clara, looking at the frying pans. "Can you actually cook?"

"I used to be able to," said the Doctor. "I made Craig an omelette once, I remember that."

"And was this before you spent two thousand years in a warzone, before regenerating into a gangly, uncoordinated Scotsman with the attention span of a gnat?" asked Clara. "Or after?"

"It might have been… before," said the Doctor, sheepishly bowing his head.

"I knew it," said Clara. She looked up at the clock on the wall, before waving her arms around at the kitchen. "Right, you've got twenty minutes to clean all of this up. I'm going to get showered and dressed."

"Then what?" asked the Doctor.

"We're going out for breakfast," said Clara.

* * *

The Doctor had perked up considerably since they'd left Clara's flat. Breakfast had been fine, passing without incident - that is, until it was time to pay for their food. The Doctor had insisted on trying to pay with a couple of golden doubloons ("These belonged to Eddie Teach, you know!"), but Clara had intervened, handing the waitress a twenty pound note and telling her to keep the change.

After that, Clara had suggested they take a walk around Shoreditch Park. It was surprisingly peaceful, and again, passed without incident.

Then the Doctor's watched beeped.

"That's it!" he exclaimed excitedly. "The TARDIS is back."

"What? Where?" asked Clara.

"Just outside your block of flats," said the Doctor.

They made the short trip back to Clara's flat - surely enough, a blue police telephone box was sitting on the large green near the front entrance. The Doctor cried out in joy as he spotted it.

"Oh, dear, you're a sight for sore eyes!" he yelled, sprinting off towards his ship. Clara smiled as his hand shot to his pocket, before pushing the TARDIS' key into the lock. The door swung open, and the Doctor stepped inside quickly.

* * *

The Doctor went straight for the TARDIS console, his hand slamming down on the stabiliser switches. There was a hum as they activated, finally locking the ship in place.

"Sorted?" asked Clara as she closed the TARDIS door.

"More than sorted," said the Doctor. He looked up at the TARDIS' time rotor. "Never, ever do that to me again."

The console gave a grumpy burble in response. The Doctor extended a finger and raised an eyebrow.

"Watch your language," he warned quietly, before turning back to Clara.

"Thank you, Clara," he said, giving her a terse smile. "For letting me stay the night."

"No problem," said Clara. "I'd say you were a perfect guest, but I think I'd be lying."

"Then don't worry about it," said the Doctor, taking off around the console. "We wouldn't want you slipping into old habits."

"Thanks for that," Clara grimaced. Then her face straightened. "I believe you mentioned a holiday?"

"I believe I did," said the Doctor. "The Eye of Orion, wasn't it?"

"If memory serves," said Clara. The Doctor gave her a manic grin, and gripped a lever - he whipped it back, and the TARDIS engines groaned into life. The time rotor began to oscilate.

* * *

The TARDIS dematerialised, diving into the swirling maelstrom of the Time Vortex. It bucked and whirled, spinning off towards the Eye of Orion.

* * *

 ** _A/N_ : Please leave a review, it helps so much to keep me writing.**


	3. A Hip Flask and a Smartphone

The Doctor walked through Hyde Park with a bottle of Coke in one hand, and a newspaper in the other. He was on the hunt for an empty bench - a rather difficult commodity to come by on such a hot day as this. In fact, it was so hot a day that the Doctor was garnering a considerable amount of strange looks - despite the sun, he was decked out in a t-shirt, a hoodie and his blue Crombie. In an effort to dispel some of the strange looks, he'd donned the sonic sunglasses, hoping to blend in - but so far they'd had little effect.

At last he found a free bench, so he sat down and opened his newspaper. He ignored the front page news of President Clinton's gaffe when she met the Queen, and skipped straight through to the funnies section. He used to love the little comic strips - a love he'd picked up during the seventies (or was it the eighties - he couldn't quite remember, it was so long ago...) when he'd worked for UNIT. He hadn't yet had the chance to see if the affinity had carried over into his latest regeneration.

He scanned quickly over the page, frowning all the while.

"That doesn't even make sense," he muttered as he read the first comic strip. "Dogs can't talk - well, they can if they're robots, but I doubt this one is."

A woman was shrieking out on the green - the Doctor was doing his best to ignore her, she was obviously a lunatic of the highest order and he wanted to concentrate on the comics. Unfortunately, the woman's shrieks were winning the battle with the Doctor's attention span - he looked up over the top of his newspaper and his hearts skipped a pair of beats.

Missy was running across the green, a smartphone in her hand. She was holding the phone up, as though she was chasing something.

"Ha!" she shouted, stabbing a finger at the screen. "I've got you now, ya slippery wee devil!"

The Doctor flung his newspaper onto the bench and leapt up, pocketing the sonic sunglasses as he went. He began to stalk across the green, just as Missy flicked her finger upward on the screen.

"Don't you dare..." she was muttering as the Doctor approached, "One… two… three! Yes! Suck it up, little birdie-thing!"

"Missy!" the Doctor hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"Not now, I'm busy," Missy said, waving an arm at him. "Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying. Go away, pea-brain."

"Missy, it's me," said the Doctor. "What are you doing?"

Missy looked at him - it took her a moment, but eventually her face lit up and she threw her arms around the Doctor.

"Theta!" she slurred, as the Doctor staggered back, a wide eyed look of fear on his face. "It's you!"

"Yes, yes it is," said the Doctor in a strained voice. "Can you please… stop… strangling me?!"

Missy responded by hugging him tighter.

"I haven't seen you since that nasty business on Skaro!" said Missy as she finally released him from the embrace. The Doctor staggered back, rubbing his throat as he went. "Hang on... You left me alone with a planet full of poo-y Daleks! That's the most despicable thing you've ever done."

She lurched over to the Doctor and patted his shoulder. "Congratulations."

"Have you been drinking?" asked the Doctor as he took Missy's hands and pushed them away from him.

"Only a little bit," Missy replied. She put her hand up to her mouth as a hiccup escaped. "Not too much, really."

She put her hand into her pocket and removed a hip flask. The Doctor took it and opened it, holding it up to his nose - the unmistakable scent of Silver Devastion whisky invaded his nostrils. He peered through the aperture suspiciously.

"Missy," he said, "Have you got a bigger-on-the-inside hip flask?"

"Possibly," Missy admitted, her head bobbing up and down dangerously. "I may have gotten bored one night - it happens to the best of us."

"I don't want to know," said the Doctor as he handed the hip flask back to Missy.

"Square," Missy jibed. She tried to poke the Doctor's chest but she overbalanced and fell onto the ground. The Doctor looked at her in disbelief - in theory, it was impossible for Time Lords to become inebriated. But Missy seemed to have disproved that theory completely.

"No, no, it's not bedtime yet," Missy said as she hauled herself up from the ground. "I thought you were meant to catch the person during a trust fall?"

"It wasn't a trust fall," said the Doctor.

"Of course it was," said Missy. "You're a terrible friend."

"Missy, for the last time: tell me what you're doing here," said the Doctor.

"Make me!" Missy teased. The smartphone in her hand buzzed, and she screamed.

"Oh my god, it's Meowth!"

She took off across the green, phone waving around in front of her. The Doctor gave chase, and almost slammed into her when she came to a sudden stop. Missy stabbed at the screen again, and punched the air.

"Get in!" she hollered, spinning around and waving her arms. She held up the phone to show the Doctor - a small, cat-like creature was displayed on the screen.

"Is this a rare one, it's so hard to keep track," she said. The Doctor prised the phone out of her hand and looked at it.

"What on earth is this?" he asked.

"Pokémon Go," said Missy. "My wee guilty pleasure."

"You seem to have a few of those," said the Doctor, thinking back to the hip flask.

"Give that back," Missy said, grabbing the phone back from the Doctor. "You better not have hurt my little darlings."

"What are you talking about?" said the Doctor with a degree of finality.

"My Pokémon, what else?" Missy said. "They're such sensitive little nuggets."

"What on Earth's a Pokemon?" asked the Doctor.

"Not Pokemon," said Missy. "Pokémon - there's a difference. They're little 3D avatars that the humans obviously ascribe some sort of value to - I'm hoping to amass a fortune, it's working well so far. Hey - d'you think we can make your TARDIS into a gym, it would make our dalliances so much more interesting."

"I don't think they're worth anything," said the Doctor. "It looks like it's just a game."

"That's what they want you to think, it prevents inflation," said Missy. "Now, where were we - There's a Dratini!"

Missy took off again, and the Doctor sighed as he gave chase. However, Missy stopped suddenly, shaking with rage.

"No!" she shouted, "Where did you go?!"

She whirled to face the Doctor.

"It's gone - did you do that, just to spite me?"

He didn't get a chance to reply - a young boy, perhaps five or six years old, ran past with a smartphone in his hand. He was racing towards a woman - obviously his mother.

"Mummy! Mummy, look - I caught a Dratini!" he shouted, waving his phone around in the air.

"No!" Missy roared. She began to run after the little boy. "That Dratini was mine! Give me back my little nugget!"

"Missy, no!" The Doctor leapt forward and wrapped his arms around Missy in an effort to hold her back. The little boy looked at them in fear, and his mother ran forward to protect him. The Doctor wrestled Missy around and forced her away from the little boy, before turning and offering him a cigar case full of Jelly Babies.

"I'm terribly sorry," he said. "She overdid it with the drinks at lunch."

"I think you should take your wife home," said the little boy's mother.

"She's not my wife," said the Doctor. He thrust the cigar case into the little boy's hands, before turning and propelling Missy away.

"I'd take you back to your TARDIS, but I think you're just a little bit over the 'drink and drive' limit," he said as they approached the gates of the park.

"Well, take me back to yours, then," said Missy, an evil glint in her eyes, "Let's see just how far that 'good boy' act goes."

She winked, and the Doctor blushed.

"I don't think so," said the Doctor.

"Such a conservative," Missy teased.

"Your TARDIS it is," the Doctor muttered. "Where is it?"

"Um..." said Missy. "Edinburgh, maybe?"

"How did you get to London?" asked the Doctor.

"Train, or horse - can't remember!" Missy exploded into laughter.

* * *

"One ticket to Edinburgh, please," said the Doctor.

"Certainly, that's twenty pounds, sir," said the ticket vendor. The Doctor stuck his sunglasses onto his face, and looked at the card reader. A moment later, the vendor's screen lit up 'Paid'.

"Thank you sir, platform nine," the vendor smiled - she'd never seen anyone pay with sunglasses before, but it was rather novel.

"Thanks," said the Doctor, taking the ticket and waking away. Missy was sitting on a bench near the doors, staring into space. The Doctor took her by the arm and led her towards the platform.

"Come on, there's the train," said the Doctor.

"How long does it last?" asked Missy.

"Five hours," said the Doctor through gritted teeth.

"Five hours?!" Missy squawked, looking at him in horror. "You want me to spend five hours in a carriage full of sweaty humans? I don't think so poppet, not a hope in hell!"

"You know, that ticket lady told me that there's loads of Dratini's in Edinburgh," said the Doctor.

"Did she really?" said Missy, her demeanour changing instantly. "Maybe it's not as bad then. There's at least six hours left in the hip flask."

"Is there really?" said the Doctor, as Missy went up onto the train.

"I'd say it's been fun, but to be honest, I'd rather have dug my own eyes out and fed them to Aggedor," she said. The door closed, and she went to find a seat.

Missy looked over her shoulder at the Doctor, and gave her a little wave. The Doctor grinned and waved back - a small silver hip flask in hand.

"No!" Missy yelled, leaping out of her seat and slamming on the window. She ran for the door, but it was too late - the train was already pulling away from the platform.

The Doctor gave Missy one last wave, before turning and leaving the station. He found a bin just outside, and tossed the hip flask into it.


	4. The Epilogue

_**A/N:**_ **So, here's the thing. This oneshot is really out of place in this collection, but I'm going to include it regardless. Here's the story behind it: I have tried to write a longfic based on the Time War, featuring the Eighth and War Doctors - how they ended up the men we saw in Night of the Doctor, and Day of the Doctor respectively. It was an utter failure - whilst it was by far the most popular of the stories I'd written, I was really unhappy with what I'd made. I just wasn't able to get what was in my head onto the page (or screen X-D) and the resulting stories were messy, and to be honest, I wouldn't have read them myself. So, the fic was scrapped, placed on hiatus and eventually deleted. What follows here is what I had planned to include at the very end as an epilogue, featuring the Ninth and Eleventh Doctors looking back on the War, from two very different points of view. It's very different to what I've included in 'The Bet & Other Stories' so far, but I really want to publish it because it's something that just won't go away, even though the story it was meant to be in was scrapped. I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, I hope you leave a review :-)**

* * *

The TARDIS library was a fantastic place. It was spread over several storeys, the balconies crammed full of bookcases - there were volumes written in a vast array of languages and dialects (some of which hadn't even been created yet), across a range of subjects and disciplines, resting on these shelves.

The library was a very different place to the rest of the TARDIS - where the corridors and rooms of the rest of the ship possessed an dirty, organic look, the library was rendered in marble and mahogany; the air was cool, though not uncomfortably so, and clear; and it was well lit. It seemed entirely disconnected from the rest of the ship - the noise from the engines, the various creaks and groans from the equipment hidden behind the walls and beneath the floors, none of that was present here. It was a truly relaxing environment.

Perhaps that was why Rose Tyler found herself visiting it so often. She'd never really been interested in books - and to be honest, she still wasn't, not really. Besides, most of the literature in the library was far beyond her understanding, probably even beyond the human range of understanding. She just liked the atmosphere - quiet and restful.

Normally, she went straight to the fiction shelves - either the Doctor or the TARDIS had meticulously organised the books into categorised, labelled sections. Rose would look for something set on Earth, eschewing the more fantastical tales in favour of a humdrum romance - her entire life these days was an adventure, and no matter how much it tried, no fantasy could ever live up to her expectations, not anymore - not after everything she'd seen.

The fiction section was just around the corner from the door - for some reason, Rose had noticed, the shelves nearest the door didn't hold any books. Instead, they were laden with small glass bottles, filled with a purplish liquid and with a weathered, yellow, peeling label on each one, marked with the words 'Encyclopedia Gallifreya' - they were arranged according to a number beneath the title. They were all tightly stoppered, and Rose lifted one down - the cork wouldn't budge no matter how hard she pulled. It was almost as if someone had pushed it down hard enough to keep all of the contents locked inside…

She ran her hand over the label, reading the words written in black ink.

"Gallifrey," she muttered to herself. "What's Gallifrey?"

Around her, the TARDIS almost seemed to _vibrate_. It was as if the ship was warning Rose away from the little bottles. Rose looked up at the ceiling - the Doctor had told her that the TARDIS was alive, even telepathic. Any sort of message should be heeded immediately, she decided, putting the little bottle back up onto the shelf. She turned away, leaving the shelves behind.

"Sorry," she muttered - she had no idea if the TARDIS would even hear her, but at least she was trying to make amends for her seemingly invasive mistake. She strode on, aiming for the fiction section. However, before she arrived, she spotted something - a small alcove she'd never seen before. Inside the alcove was a pedestal - and on that pedestal was a book.

It was a hefty tome, with a cracked leather cover and faded gilding on the corners. The title was displayed in the centre, surrounded by the same circular designs Rose had seen on sticky notes stuck to the TARDIS' scanner in the control room - 'The History of the Time War'.

The Time War, Rose thought. That awful, horrible event the Doctor spoke of only in passing, or in hushed tones - the war he'd spoken about when they'd met the Dalek in Van Statten's bunker. The war he'd fought in, Rose surmised, the thing that had made the Doctor into the guilt-ridden survivor he was today.

She reached for the cover, feeling that same warning from the TARDIS as before - except this time she put it to the back of her mind and opened the book. On the first page was a drawing of a man - short, curled hair and young eyes. Rose had no idea who he was - the only clue as to his identity was a Roman numeral beneath the sketch.

VIII

She went to turn the page, but didn't get the chance.

"Don't."

Rose spun around. The Doctor was just behind her - how had he got so close without her realising? He was looking at her pleadingly - the 'Don't' hadn't been an order, it had been a request. Rose felt a hot guilt rising up in her chest. She knew that reading any of this book would have been crossing a line.

"Sorry," she said, slamming the book shut. "I didn't mean to…"

"No, it's alright," said the Doctor, walking into the alcove to join her. He opened the book again, back to the page with the drawing. He smiled briefly, playing lightly across his lips before passing - his face returned to a stony, sorrowful look, as though he'd remembered something wonderful, and then how it ended.

"Who is he?" asked Rose, pointing at the image in the book.

"The last of the good men," said the Doctor, running his fingers across the Roman numeral for eight. "He was… before."

"Before the Time War?" Rose asked. The Doctor nodded, closing the book over lightly.

"You shouldn't read this," said the Doctor. "Every word in that book is dangerous."

Rose looked at the book again, wondering at what could possibly be held within.

"Are you in it?" she asked. The Doctor gave her a sideways glance.

"Yes," he finally admitted. "It's my story."

"Your story?" Rose questioned. She instantly regretted it as the Doctor closed his eyes, almost flinching.

"Yes," he said again. "It's all mine."

"Hey, it's OK," said Rose, putting her hand up on his shoulder in an effort to appear reassuring. "You don't have to talk about it. Not if you don't want to."

"Thanks," he said, finally allowing his hand to drop away from the cover of the book. When he spoke again, it was after a period of silence. "It's not that I don't want to. But when I do - it's like I'm still there, in the heat of it all. I lost so much, Rose. I lost everything."

He turned away.

"My world burned. My people burned. My family burned. Even I burned, in the end, again, into the person I am today. Everything I've ever known - it's all gone. And it's all my fault. The War ended because of me, because of what I had to do - I'm the reason everything's gone. And every waking second, I'm left wondering if there was another way? Could I have saved Gallifrey, the Time Lords, if I'd just tried harder?"

"Doctor, it's not your fault," said Rose.

"It was, Rose," he replied. "I pushed the button, ended everything. I burnt my own planet to end the war."

"You can't think like that," said Rose. "You don't have to, not anymore. You can't just sit back and let it eat you up like that - you have to move on."

The Doctor smiled at her sadly.

"It's not as easy as that," he said.

"Well, isn't it lucky you've got me and Jack to help you then," said Rose. They both laughed, and the Doctor grinned.

"My friends always were the best of me," said the Doctor. "It's a pity I didn't have one then - maybe things would have been different if there'd been someone who could've made me see."

"Me and Jack are here," said Rose. "We'll help."

"Thanks," said the Doctor. He pointed at the door. "Jack's in the games room - he wants to finish that darts championship."

"Great," Rose muttered. "I'm rubbish at darts, you both know that."

"Practice makes perfect," said the Doctor. "Go on, hop it. I'll catch up in a minute or two."

"You'd better," said Rose as she started to walk towards the door. The Doctor watched her round the corner, before turning back to the book in the alcove. He opened it again, lingering briefly on the image of his eighth self - a much happier time, all things considered - before turning the page again, revealing a blank sheet of paper. Another turn of the page revealed more blank paper.

It was too painful, he decided. Every time he came here, meaning to write it all down, it got too much for him. The memories swelled up - Romana, Leela, Susan, the Corsair, Ushas and Koschei - all consumed by the flames, long before their time. Gallifrey burning, the Dalek ships being consumed by the fires - the explosion was seen across the galaxy, felt across time. Everything the Time Lords stood for, all those lives wiped out in an instant - so many possibilities that would never see fruition.

A different guilt began to eat away at his chest, even as those thoughts went through his head. He'd told Rose he was nine hundred years old - the problem was that he couldn't remember when he'd started lying about his age, but it must have been during the War. If he could forget his own age...

He picked up the book, the memories swirling out of his head and onto the page, in his mind's eye. He could start with the early days - much more bearable to think about than the later stages of the War. Back when he'd been young, and naive - when he'd still been the Doctor.

The Doctor carried the book across to one of the tables - the TARDIS had already materialised a pen and a bottle of ink on the tabletop (she knew him better than he knew himself, it seemed). He set the book open on the first page, and picked up the pen. After another moment of consideration, he began to write.

 _This is the History of the Last Great Time War_

 _Written by_

He hesitated, unsure of himself. Could he really call himself the Doctor? After everything he'd done? Even now, after he'd taken up the name again, he felt unsure of himself - being the Doctor now didn't feel like it used to. On the surface, everything seemed the same - dashing about in a rickety old TARDIS, saving people and defeating monsters - but underneath, everything was different, guilt now being the driving force behind his actions rather than the old adventurous spirit. After a good few minutes, he put pen to paper again.

 _Written by the only survivor_

* * *

 _Several centuries later_

The Doctor looked down at the book, and opened it. After all these years, he'd never managed to finish it - number nine had been unable to bring himself to do it, number ten had tried to bury the memories and as such had put the book away, and forgotten about it. It had only been unearthed whenever the TARDIS had been put out of action by the Van Balen brothers, and Clara had come across it. He'd taken up writing it again after that but unfortunately, he'd been unable to stick at writing for any length of time, so his entries were fragmented and often short. However, he'd still made more progress during this regeneration than he had during either of his two immediate predecessors'.

And then there had been today - the day when everything changed. When the three Doctors had broken through the Time Lock, when all of him had finally done the right thing and saved Gallifrey - they'd _saved Gallifrey_ , he still couldn't get his head around that fact - plucking it from the inferno at the last second and burying it away in time, safe. And with this wondrous, miraculous event - it was time to finish the book.

He grabbed the book and took it to the table - it was the same one, from when he'd started it all those years ago - and grabbed the pen from the bottle of ink. One final entry, he thought, right at the back.

 _The Time War is over. Gallifrey has been saved._

Then he flipped over the book, flipping back through the pages until he reached the first one he'd written.

 _This is the History of the Last Great Time War, written by the only survivor._

He crossed out the last two words.

 _This is the History of the Last Great Time War, written by_ The Doctor.


	5. Orange Sky

_**Character Listing for 'Orange Sky' -** **The Eleventh Doctor, Amy Pond, The Twelfth Doctor, Clara Oswald.**_

* * *

The pillow was clasped around Amy's ears, in an attempt to drown out the noise - two noises, in fact. The first (and by far the loudest) was the snoring coming from the bunk beneath her, a rumbling sound that drilled right into the core of Amy's head. The other noise, far less intrusive but still enough to keep Amy awake tonight - the constant humming and swishing of the TARDIS' engines, which seemed to come from each and every direction, with no discernible original source.

Amy let the pillow drop away from her head, finally giving up in her efforts to sleep. Most nights, she was out like a light, but other nights - like tonight - Rory's snoring and the TARDIS's engines seemed to conspire against her. The best thing to do on such occasions was to get up, and go to the kitchen in search of a mug containing something hot.

She pushed the covers away, and made for the ladder of the bunk bed. Amy made a mental note to ask the Doctor for a new bed that didn't involve ladders the next time she saw him - this was getting ridiculous. On her way out of the bedroom she shared with Rory, she lifted her dressing gown from the hook on the back of the door, before slipping out into the corridor.

The kitchen wasn't far from the bedroom. Amy wasn't sure that was coincidental or by design (whether that design was the Doctor's or the TARDIS's, she wasn't sure either - although she had a sneaking suspicion it was the latter's) but she was grateful nonetheless. It was one of the more normal-looking rooms aboard the ship - although some of the foodstuffs in the cupboards were just as exotic and unknown as the planets and space stations they visited in the TARDIS. However, Amy knew exactly where the tea was (she'd insisted that the Doctor show her the proper stuff, rather than rely the tasteless broth produced by the slightly dilapidated machine in the corner that the Doctor called his 'food machine').

She switched the kettle on, and looked at the ceiling. The TARDIS's flight was more often than not accompanied by a light swaying - just like a boat at slightly choppy seas. Some people might have found it relaxing - Amy found that it just made her nauseous. A cup of tea would set her right - just as soon as the Doctor's abominably slow kettle managed to bring the water up to boiling temperature.

The kettle pinged, and Amy poured the hot water into her waiting mug. She gave the teabag a stir, before adding a dash of milk. She lifted it up and sipped it, before attempting to relax. She closed her eyes and listened. It wasn't too long before she noticed that the noise from the TARDIS's engines had ceased.

This was unusual - the Doctor hardly ever landed the TARDIS while they were asleep. Well, not that she knew of anyway - who knew what sort of adventures the Doctor got up to while she and Rory slept? Mug of tea in hand, Amy went back into the corridor and down towards the control room.

The TARDIS had indeed landed - the blown glass structure within the central column of the TARDIS console was motionless. Amy looked around for her friend - he was nowhere to be seen, but the police box doors leading to the exterior of the ship were slightly ajar. Amy went down the steps and peaked through - she could see the Doctor outside, sitting on a large boulder. He looked slightly deflated as he stared up at a vibrant orange sky.

Amy opened the door a little further in an effort to get a better view, and winced as the hinges creaked. The Doctor looked over his shoulder, and smiled sadly as he saw his friend.

"Hello Amy," he said, waving at her to come out of the ship. "I thought you were asleep."

"Chance would be a fine thing," Amy grumbled as she left the TARDIS and walked over towards the Doctor's boulder. "Where are we?"

"Kepremon," said the Doctor. "Careful not to trip! The gravity's probably a bit stronger than you're used to."

"What are you doing?" Amy asked, looking up at him. The Doctor set his lips, still staring up at the sky.

"Remembering," he said in little more than a whisper.

"Remembering what?"

"Gallifrey," he said, his voice cracking just a little bit. "My home - well, my home before the TARDIS, I suppose."

"The one you…" Amy started, but she couldn't quite figure out how to finish the sentence. She didn't have to - the Doctor finished it for her.

"The one I burned?" he said, nodding. "Yes. That one."

"Why here?" Amy asked.

"It's the sky," said the Doctor, "It's not quite the same colour - but it's the closest I've managed to find. I think that helps. Otherwise, it might be too difficult."

"You're feeling guilty again," said Amy - it was a statement rather than a question. The Doctor nodded.

"It never really stops," he said. "It's worst at night - when you and Rory aren't there to… distract me."

"You should have said." Amy clambered up onto the boulder and sat down beside him, careful not to spill a drop of tea as she went.

"I wouldn't want to burden you," said the Doctor. "It's my cross to bear - not yours."

"Doctor, we're your friends," said Amy as she put her arm around his back. "We're here for you, whether you like it or not. That's what friends do - shoulder to cry on when times are tough."

"Amy," the Doctor started, "you don't know what I did. The man I was… He did the most terrible things imaginable."

"I don't care what you did, or who you were," said Amy. "You're the Doctor - my raggedy man, that's all that matters. And if you're feeling down about stuff, then it's my job to fix that."

"No, it isn't," said the Doctor. "I won't allow it."

"Who do you think you are?" said Amy. "You're not the boss of me, Doctor - I won't sit down and let you spiral yourself into this darkness. It helps to talk - you need to talk."

The Doctor sighed, and looked back up at the sky. There was a single sun, edging it's way towards the horizon, casting a fiery glow across the sky.

"Come on then," said Amy, "tell me about this place."

"I came across it by accident," said the Doctor, "a long time ago. I was travelling with Rose, and Captain Jack then - you would have liked them, Amy. That was only a few months after…"

"After the Time War ended?"

The Doctor nodded.

"One of the TARDIS's components burned out mid-flight," said the Doctor. "I had to set down somewhere to fix it. And when I did, I looked outside."

He held up a hand and gestured to the panorama before them.

"And this is where I was," he continued, "right here. The TARDIS always lands at this same spot."

"How often do you come?" Amy asked.

"Too often," the Doctor admitted. "It started out, just that once. Then I went back, a few months later. The visits got more frequent - once or twice a week - until one night Rose found me out here. I was embarrassed. I didn't come back - not in that body, anyway."

"And then?"

"I started coming back when Martha started travelling with me," said the Doctor. "It was almost as bad as the first time I'd come - the memories, the sensations, they just hit me. Anyway, Martha found me - and I ran again. I managed to come back a few more times, but the visits were less frequent."

"Then I regenerated again - this body," said the Doctor, patting his chest. "The raggedy man. Do you remember, the second time I left you in your garden?"

"You said you'd gone on a quick trip to the moon," said Amy, nodding. The Doctor shook his head.

"I came here," he said. "I wanted to see it again - with brand new eyes. That's the thing with regeneration - you get lots of 'firsts' each time."

"And?"

"I was addicted," he said. "It's been too long since I was on Gallifrey - nothing's left for me to go back to, not even the sky. I need this. This…"

He trailed off, obviously unable to continue.

"Therapy?" Amy suggested. The Doctor shrugged.

"I don't know what it is," he said, "but it's painful. The memories - I can still see it."

He pointed to the horizon, down across the plain beneath them.

"The Capitol, citadel of the Time Lords. That was the centre of our world," he said. "It represented everything we achieved - it was the last thing to burn."

He pointed across to the right.

"The Academy was in that direction," he said. "The children of Gallifrey went there. Well, they did before the War. There weren't many left there at the end - most had either joined the army, or gone home to their families."

Then he pointed down, to the bottom of the mountain.

"That was home, for me," he said. "The House of Lungbarrow - one of the ancient Prydonian houses. When the War started, the Time Lords called back all of the renegades, anyone who was missing from Gallifrey. My granddaughter…"

He wiped away a single tear, before continuing.

"I brought her home myself, back to Lungbarrow. Gallifrey should have been the safest place in the universe for a Time Lord - the Dalek fleet advanced across the desert - Lungbarrow was decimated in seconds."

"Oh, Doctor…" Amy said, pulling him close. She'd known he'd had a family, a long time before, but this…

"I had nothing left," he said. "That's why I did it - the Time Lords, the Daleks… Everything we'd done to the universe. It had to stop."

"If you ever feel like this again, come and see me," said Amy. "It doesn't matter what time of the day or night it is - don't keep doing this to yourself. You need to talk to someone - and if you don't talk to me, go and see River, or someone else."

The Doctor didn't reply, he just kept staring at the sky. The sun edged further to the horizon - and eventually, disappeared beneath it.

"Come on," said Amy, hopping down from the boulder. "Kettle's just boiled - let's go and have a cup of tea. We can't sit here all night."

"What is it with humans and tea?" the Doctor muttered as he pulled himself down from the boulder and began to walk back to the TARDIS, feeling some way like his normal self. "It can't fix every problem."

"Of course it can," said Amy. "Why do you think we drink so much of it?"

"That's not true," said the Doctor.

"Let's put it to the test, anyway."

* * *

"Where are we?"

The Doctor looked back as Clara stepped out of the TARDIS and onto the sand. She looked up at the orange sky, before glancing back at the Doctor.

"Are we where I think we are?" she asked.

"Nowhere near it," the Doctor replied. "We're on the other side of the galaxy for a start."

The sun was rising slowly into the sky. Clara joined the Doctor at the edge of the ridge as he looked over a wide, flat plain.

"Well, where are we really, then?"

"Kepremon," said the Doctor. "It's going to crash into a moon in a year or so - they get married, I'm sure it's a lovely story."

"Really? Are we safe here?" Clara asked.

"The only danger is of a slight sunburn," the Doctor replied. "But only later in the day. We're safe for now."

"Good," said Clara. "Why are we here?"

"It's a bit of a mistake, really," said the Doctor. "I was clearing out the TARDIS log files - accidentally set the coordinates for this place."

"You're a terrible liar," said Clara.

"I know," said the Doctor, "I'll have to work on it, it's a pretty useful skill."

"Why are we really here?"

"Because I want to remember what I'm looking for."

"What do you mean?"

"You've been on Gallifrey, Clara," said the Doctor, "however briefly - at least one of your echoes was there, too. You know what the sky looks like."

"Orange," said Clara, looking up at the increasingly fiery sky. "Is that why you're here?"

The Doctor nodded.

"It's only orange at sunrise, and at sunset," he said. "I've only ever seen it at the end of the day - I wondered what it looked like at sunrise, so I came."

"You've been here before?" asked Clara. The Doctor nodded.

"Too many times," he said. "It became an addiction, of sorts. I visited far too frequently for my own good. The memories… They were always more potent here."

"When did you stop?"

"Amy caught me out here one night," he said. "I was a bit down at the time - we talked, and she managed to snap me out of it."

"Why did you come back?"

"You're full of questions today," the Doctor noted. "That was before I knew that Gallifrey was still out there - when I came here before, it was about remembering. Now, it's different - I've got hope now."

"It's beautiful," said Clara, looking up at the sky - there were a few wispy clouds that added a certain texture to the sky - it was as though they were looking up at a giant painting.

"It's not quite the same," said the Doctor, "but it's enough to remind why I'm fighting, what I'm looking for."

"Homesick?" said Clara.

"You have no idea," said the Doctor.

They watched as the sun ascended into the sky, and eventually the orange colour faded into a bright blue. Clara smiled at the Doctor.

"I'm hungry," she said. "Where are you taking me for breakfast?"

"I'm taking you?" the Doctor scoffed, his reverie broken at last. "You're the one with money - I don't really do that sort of thing."

"Come on, you have to make up for the two-week-long trip to get coffee, and leaving me in Glasgow," said Clara. "I don't care if you have to rob a bank, we're going for breakfast."

"If you say so, Miss Oswald," said the Doctor as he began to walk towards the TARDIS. "I should have some bags of gold dust left in the TARDIS's Library. I'm sure one of those will be more than sufficient for a fry-up."

"Who said anything about a fry-up?" Clara asked.

"I'm Scottish now, Clara, it's innate. What about Milliway's - spectacular views, talking cows, and most importantly: very friendly to time travellers."

"Sounds like it's right up our street, doesn't it, Doctor?"

"My thoughts exactly, Clara."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ **Stay tuned for next week - Deleted Scenes from this one coming at some point (with Nine, Ten, Rose and Martha :-D). If you've enjoyed this oneshot (and the others) please leave a review. Couple of changes to the format of this collection with this update - I'll be adding a character listing at the start of each oneshot (since you can only have four on the story listing) and also that the description has been changed to reflect that the oneshots I write for here** **will be _mostly_ unconnected. Sequels/prequels to other oneshots can (and will) be a thing here from now on.**


	6. Orange Sky - Deleted Scenes

_**Character Listing for 'Orange Sky: Deleted Scenes' - The Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler, The Tenth Doctor, Martha Jones.**_

* * *

The TARDIS engines were quiet. Rose sat up in bed - this was unusual, normally the Doctor kept the TARDIS in flight overnight. She'd come to view the thrumming in the background as a sort of comfort - a reminder that the TARDIS was alive, and all around them, protecting her, the Doctor and Jack. But now, they were silent…

She threw back the covers, and found her slippers and dressing gown. Her bedroom door opened - the TARDIS knew she was going for a walk. She stepped out into the corridor, and looked down the corridor - the lights in the TARDIS walls were fluctuating, lighting up in order. They seemed to be sweeping down the hall in the direction of the control room - almost as if the TARDIS was beckoning her.

"You want me to go this way?" she asked. There was no response from the TARDIS - of course there wasn't, it was a time machine - but the lights continued to switch on and off, so Rose took that as an affirmative.

The first thing Rose noticed was that the central column was motionless - the engines were indeed shut off. The second thing she noticed was that the TARDIS' doors were hanging open, just slightly. She walked over, taking care not to make the grated floor in the control room creak - she wasn't sure why she wanted to exercise a degree of stealth, but it seemed like a good idea. She stepped around an open toolbox - judging by the fact that one of the panels on the console had been almost completely taken apart, it seemed that the Doctor had been making some repairs.

Rose peered through the crack between the doors - she could see the Doctor standing outside. The TARDIS had seemingly been landed on a rocky planet of some kind - the ground was dark, and covered in small pebbles. It reminded Rose of the photos they'd been shown of volcanoes in primary school. The Doctor wasn't looking at the ground - he was looking at the sky. Rose could see a sliver of orange sky through the doors, a vibrant, fiery orange. Rose couldn't see his face, but he looked somewhat sad from behind - morose and a little deflated. He seemed lost in memory, totally unmoving.

Then he turned and began to walk towards the TARDIS. Rose leapt away from the doors, making for the corridor back to her room - she wasn't going to make it in time, the Doctor was already back in the control room.

"Rose?" he said. Rose turned, her face blushing as she did so.

"Sorry," she said. "Was I interrupting you?"

The Doctor shook his head.

"No, you weren't he said," as he went to the console. He looked at the doors for another moment before pulling the dematerialisation lever. The TARDIS engines heaved into life, striking up their familiar orchestral humming, and the central column began its oscillating movement.

"Where was that place?" she asked.

"Nowhere, it's not important," the Doctor replied. "Just a planet."

"Oh," said Rose.

"You should head back to bed," said the Doctor, "it's late."

"Are you alright?" Rose asked. The Doctor looked at her properly for the first time since entering the TARDIS.

"I'm fine," he lied. Rose didn't reply, unsure as to how to continue.

"Go on," said the Doctor. "You'll be tired in the morning, and I'm not putting up with any moaning."

"Doctor…" Rose started to say, but he cut her off.

"Rose, I don't mean to be rude," he said. "But I really don't want to talk about it."

"OK," said Rose, feeling as though she'd intruded on some intimate and private moment - in a way, she supposed, she had. She turned, and began to walk towards her bedroom, the lights dimming in the control room as she left.

* * *

Martha walked into the control room, yawning as she did so.

"Morning Doctor!" she called, but there was no answer. The control was empty - there was no reciprocal 'Morning!' from the Doctor, no manic grin as he appeared from the other side of the console. The TARDIS was silent.

There was a creak from the door - they were slightly ajar. The Doctor must have left - but surely he wouldn't have gone on an adventure without her, would he? Martha dismissed that idea - the Doctor wouldn't have been so careless as to leave his precious TARDIS unlocked. He must be just outside.

Martha went to the doors, and looked through the gap. The Doctor was standing a little way from the TARDIS, looking up at a striking orange sky. It was cloudless, simply a gradient between a lighter and darker shade of orange. The Doctor seemed enthralled.

"Doctor?" Martha called, going to open the door. His head snapped around as she spoke, the spell broken. Martha stood back as he pushed the doors open and strode back into the control room. He pushed the doors closed quickly.

"Morning Martha!" he said, throwing his brown coat over the nearest coral buttress and going to the controls. The TARDIS engines began thrumming as he pushed a lever into place. "So, where d'you want to go today, hmm?"

"What was that place?" asked Martha.

"What place?" The Doctor tried (and failed) to put on an absent minded tone.

"The orange sky," said Martha. "Was that your home?"

The Doctor looked at her suddenly, his face pained. Martha looked back, a mixture of guilt and fear welling up in her chest.

"No, no," said the Doctor. "It wasn't. That was… Another planet."

"Oh, right," Martha said. "What were you doing there?"

"Nothing, it doesn't matter," said the Doctor. He went back to the controls, concentrating hard. "Fancy lunch at Milliway's? I'm starving."

"Doctor, is something wrong?" Martha asked. "Because if there is, you can tell me. You know that?"

"Yeah, thanks," said the Doctor. "I'll keep it in mind."

"Good," said Martha, nodding at him. "Just so you know."

"It just… Reminds me," the Doctor said, staring into space. Then he shook his head, and smiled at her.

"So, Milliway's - best steaks in the universe…"

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ **These are the two scenes taken off the 'proper' release of _Orange Sky_. They were removed because I wrote each of these ****separately - and I thought that these scenes brought very little to the story, and _Orange Sky_ would have been bloated if they'd been included. The whole story could be told between the Eleventh Doctor and Twelfth Doctor segments, so these had to go. Nevertheless, I wanted to publish them... so here they are :-)**


	7. The Universe Has Changed - Part One

_**Characters:**_ **The Seventh Doctor**

 _ **SPOILER WARNING:**_ **Minor spoilers may appear for the ongoing Big Finish series 'Doom Coalition', featuring the Eighth Doctor - this oneshot is partly based on the Seventh Doctor cameo at the beginning of the first story in that series, 'The Eleven'. This oneshot will obviously make more sense if you've listened to that, but if you haven't and don't mind spoilers - the Eleven is an insane genocidal maniac whose regenerations are able to interact with one another, vying for control over the same body. They don't always get along. Listen to Doom Coalition, it's awesome.**

* * *

There was a park. Much like many of the other parks dotted around the cosmos, it had trees and flowers, and swings – those were the best part, the little girl thought as she ran through the park. The sun was out in the sky, and the light bounced off the leaves and plants as playfully as she bounded along the path. She'd missed this – it had been so long since Mummy and Daddy had allowed her to leave the room in the basement – you know, the one with the big metal door and all the locks, the one that they'd told her not to open under any circumstances – not until it was safe, anyway. It must be safe now, because they'd opened the door yesterday morning. Mummy and Daddy can't have been all that sure, the little girl thought, because they'd made her stay in the room while they went and checked. She wasn't sure how long they'd been down there, but it must have been a very long time. She couldn't really remember much from before they went into the room in the basement…

But she remembered the park, and here it was just as she remembered. There was the gates, the pond, everything just as they'd left it. Well, except for the ranger house… that was gone now. There was something else in its place now – a pile of blackened bricks. She wondered what had happened to the rangers, as she skipped past the little pile of stone.

The swings were just around the next corner, if she remembered correctly. But wait a moment… There was a group of grown-ups, standing at the corner. They were looking at something, just about obscured by the trees, the little girl couldn't quite make it out. They were talking in hushed tones amongst themselves – just as her Mummy and Daddy had done in the room in the basement, when they were talking about something they hadn't wanted her to hear – like the bombs, the armies… And then there was the one they called the Eleven.

The little girl had seen and heard a lot about the Eleven. He sounded strange – sometimes he spoke in one voice, and then there were other times he spoke in lots of voices, all having a conversation with one another. That's what it sounded like to the little girl, anyway. To be honest, she was a bit scared of him, but she didn't really know all that much about him – Mummy and Daddy always sent her away when his announcements came onto the TV, or the radio. They'd definitely been scared of him – Mummy was scared of lots of things, but Daddy wasn't. The Eleven must have been _really_ scary to make Daddy afraid.

Maybe the Eleven was gone now, and that's why she could go out and play again. Not there were many other children to play with anymore… She wondered if they'd all gone away to the same place as the rangers.

The little girl had reached the group of grown-ups at the corner, and she could see what they were looking at – a little way along the path, there was a man sitting on one of the benches. He was quite a small man – nowhere near the size of Daddy, the little girl thought. He was wearing a hat, and one of those things was resting against the seat, oh what was it called? Oh, that's right – it was an umbrella.

"It's him, isn't it?" one of the grown-ups asked the others. There was a murmur in response, the others affirming the first. They all looked scared of this man, not in the same way as the Eleven – but it was like they were in awe. The little girl wondered who this strange little man was, the one who looked so sad and forlorn. So she decided to ask him.

The grown-ups didn't say anything as she pushed past them – one of them did shout to her as she approached the strange man on the chair, but she ignored them. The man looked over as she arrived, and smiled.

"Hello, there," he said as he took his hat off. "It's a rather fine day for a walk, isn't it?"

The little girl nodded – she'd only planned to walk up to him, and in doing so had neglected to think about what she was going to say to him.

"Hello."

The man chuckled – there was kindness in his eyes as well as sadness.

"Hello again," he said, "There're rather a lot of 'hellos' in this conversation, aren't there?"

"Yes, there are," said the little girl. "Who are you?"

"Nobody that matters," said the man. "But I can tell you're a very brave little girl."

"Why's that?"

"Because you're talking to me," said the man. "No one else on this planet wants to talk to me at the moment."

"That's sad," said the little girl.

"Not really," said the little man. "It's just the way things are. Where are you going?"

"How did you know I was going somewhere?"

"Because you were skipping along quite happily before you came across me – you were obviously going somewhere definite."

"I was going to the swings – I thought my friends might be there."

A look of sadness crossed the man's face again – the little girl couldn't quite work out why.

"Perhaps," the man said, looking away from her. "I suppose you'll have to go and see."

"The grown-ups look like they're scared of you," said the little girl. "Why is that?"

"It's because I saved them," said the man. The little girl's face screwed up in confusion.

"Why are they scared of you because you scared them?"

The man sighed in response.

"It's complicated," he said. "Grown-ups so often are. They're scared of me because they know what I'm capable of. They know what I had to do to stop… someone."

"Was it the Eleven?"

"Yes, it was," said the man sadly.

"He was scary," said the little girl. "Were you scared of him?"

"I was scared of what he was capable of doing," said the man. "He's a very dangerous person."

"But if you beat him, you must be more dangerous than him – is that it?"

The man's brow furrowed, and he almost looked pained. Then he adopted a more resigned look.

"Perhaps," he said, "Maybe – maybe not. I suppose it would depend on who you asked."

"Why's that?"

"I live a complicated life," said the man. "I've done so for a long time now – so long… I've made lots of enemies over the years."

"Like the Eleven?"

"And more. The Daleks, the Cybermen, Zygons, Sycorax – and the rest," said the man. "The universe is a dangerous place – it's changed, since I started out. I've changed."

"How old are you?" asked the little girl. The man chuckled.

"That's a rather forward question, don't you think? If I'm being honest, I've forgotten – when people ask, I usually tell a lie."

"My grandad got so old, he couldn't remember his age either," said the little girl. "Actually, he didn't even know who _I_ was, or Mummy. The only person he knew was Daddy when he died."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said the man. "Was he a nice person?"

The little girl nodded.

"He was nice," she said. "Are you a grandad?"

"I was - I left my granddaughter behind somewhere," said the man. "She was happy there – happier than she was with me. I always wondered if I'd made the right choice, if she's still happy. I don't imagine I'll ever find out. I doubt she'd approve of the man I've become."

He sighed, and looked wistfully through the trees.

"I was so different then," he said. "I was naïve, young – or old, I suppose. I had ideals, morals – I was so set in my ways. Not anymore – times change, and I've changed with them. Several times, actually. The universe is a much darker place these days – and it's still getting darker. I can't help but think there's something on the horizon, something terrible that even I can't fully comprehend it, not yet. When I changed, the last time – I thought things were getting better for a while, and I could be a bit more… fun, I suppose. Who knows what sort of man I'll be in the future?"

"Why couldn't you be fun?" the little girl asked.

"Because the universe needed me to be something stronger," said the man. "I couldn't be the light-hearted clown I fashioned myself to be, not when things were so wrong. I had to be more than that. It wasn't easy. I had a friend, Ace was her name. I used her, and when she realised, she left me."

"She left you? Did you ever see her again?"

"Once or twice," the man replied. "But the damage was done – our relationship was never the same again. She wanted nothing to do with me after what I'd done to her."

"What did you do to her?"

"I manipulated her, used her as a tool in my crusade," said the man. "Eventually she got fed up with the lies and secrets – we grew too far apart to fix things. If I'd done things differently… Not that it matters now. What's done is done – it can't be changed."

"You said the universe was getting darker. What did you mean?" the little girl asked.

"Things are tense," said the man. "It seems as though everything's been happening at once, all the bad things. Maybe it's just a coincidence. But, then again, I've never believed in coincidence. Something's been making all of this happen – all the darkness and pain, there's a root to it all. And I can't help thinking that I won't realise what it is until it's too late."

The man had become lost in his own thoughts. He snapped out of it suddenly, and picked up his hat from the chair. He flipped it up onto his head, and gave the little girl a smile.

"I'd better be going – I've got an important appointment to keep," he said. "I'm terribly sorry for going on like that, I must have bored you half to death."

"You didn't bore me," said the little girl.

"You're very kind," said the man. "I've been rather rude – I never asked you what your name was."

"My name's Cass," said the little girl. The man doffed his hat.

"I'm the Doctor," he said as he grabbed his umbrella and stood up from the bench. "And it's about time I was on my way. Wonderful meeting you!"

And with that, he walked away along the path. Cass watched as he disappeared amongst the trees, his umbrella swinging gently. Then he was gone.

Cass looked over her shoulder – the grown-ups at the corner were gone now, and she was alone in the woods. She began to walk, mapping out the route to the swings in her head again – she still knew the way, even after all these years. When she arrived, she was disappointed to find the little playpark empty – it seemed her friends weren't here after all. Cass wondered why that was.

Over the years, as Cass grew up, she came to understand why her friends weren't in the park anymore. History lessons in school told of the horrors and atrocities committed by the Eleven against her world. She knew what he was – a Time Lord. Even if he was one of the renegades of that ancient, all-powerful race, Cass came to grow a deap-seated mistrust of the Time Lords, that she never could quite manage to shake. Over the years, they managed to rebuild their world – it took hard work and lots of pain, but they managed.

 _"_ _Help me, please. Can anybody hear me?"_

One day, Cass stepped onto a gunship. She'd always wanted to see the universe, ever since that meeting with a strange little man on a park bench – she couldn't quite remember his name, but she was sure that she'd know him if they ever met again. Travelling the universe alone was a dangerous occupation at the best of times, and now that the Time War was in full swing, it was even worse. Cass signed up as soon as she turned eighteen. She found herself assigned to a gunship on an excursion into the constellation of Kasterborous – the home of the Time Lords.

 _"_ _I'm not injured, I'm crashing! I don't need a Doctor!"_

Something happened – she still wasn't quite sure what, but the ship was crashing. It was caught in the gravitational pull of one of Gallifrey's celestial sisters – Karn was the name of the planet. Cass had done her research – this planet was the modern day equivalent of the Old Earth Bermuda Triangle, in folklore – the planet was pulling in stray ships and travellers like there was no tomorrow.

 _"_ _I'm trying to send a distress signal – stop talking about Doctors!"_

It was no use – there was nothing she could do, something was interfering with the ship's computer systems. The emergency protocols were activating and deactivating all over the place, totally beyond her control. She'd teleported the rest of the crew off, sending them off somewhere safe, she hoped – actually, she hadn't had time to double check the coordinates, they might be in any of the local systems. If she made it out of this alive, she was going to have a hell of a job tracking them all down.

Her hands worked over the controls quickly, plans forming in her mind just as quickly as the last one was proved useless by the control board in front of her. There was nothing she could do. Cass briefly considered praying – she'd never been particularly religious, but this was the sort of thing people did in their last moments, wasn't it? When there was no hope…

There was a hiss behind her as the door opened. But that couldn't be right, there was nobody else on the ship – was there?

" _I'm a Doctor – but probably not the one you were expecting."_

* * *

 ** _A/N:_ The Seventh Doctor is one of the most underrated Doctors, in my opinion - not only are his stories often a great deal more mature than most of the present-day output of Doctor Who, he's a surprisingly deep character, surrounded by some other cracking people - Ace, Benny, Sherlock Holmes (yes, really - Sherlock Holmes meets Doctor Who, what more do you want from life? Please refer to either the original novel, which I think you can get in ebook form [possibly, I'm not sure], or the Big Finish adaptation of 'All-Consuming Fire' by Andy Lane, for butt-kicking, consulting-detective/time-travelling maniac shenanigans). Seriously, he's probably my favourite Classic Doctor besides the Eighth Doctor - and I've never even seen any of his TV episodes. Please, put down those pitchforks.**

 **Anyway, this is the first part of a 'twoshot' (is that a thing? Please tell me it's a thing, otherwise I'll look like a complete idiot) that will be continued next week, with an Eighth Doctor follow-up. As you probably could have guessed from the Night of the Doctor quotes dotted throughout the latter part of this chapter. Oh, and at some point soon after that, there'll be another humour chapter, since there's been quite a few slightly depressing Time War related oneshots of late. It's got Clara Oswald, Missy and Coal Hill School in it, and if that isn't a winning combination, I don't know what is :-D**

 **IN OTHER NEWS: (Dear god, this author's note has gotten awfully long) Thanks to all those who've read this little collection so far - the story broke the thousand view threshold sometime between now and the last update! Thanks again to all! :-D**

 **Please leave a review, it helps so much to keep me writing. All constructive feedback is welcome.**


	8. The Universe Has Changed - Part Two

_**A/N:**_ **If you haven't watched 'Night of the Doctor' yet, 1) What in the name of god have you been doing with your time? and 2) Go and watch it on YouTube now. This chapter is set inside it.**

 **Also, if you have seen it, go and watch it again, because you can never have enough of the Eighth Doctor in your life.**

 **Character Listing for ' _The Universe Has Changed (Part Two):_ The Eighth Doctor**

* * *

Regeneration was always a painful thing, in one way or another. Sometimes it was a dull, aching that remained in the limbs after the process had finished – other times, it was a sharp, stabbing pain in the chest as the change took, one life fading away into the next. The last time, he'd been dead for several hours already – he'd been in a morgue, wasn't that it? It hadn't been painful – at least, not that he could remember. There'd been a few moments of queasiness, but that was par for the course with regeneration – he'd been incredibly lucky to even regenerate at all, now that he thought about it. The anaesthetic administered by the surgeons had inhibited the regenerative systems in his body - had he been unconscious for any longer, he doubted that the regenerative hormones would have been released and _that_ would have been the end of the Doctor – a dead body on a cold slab in a morgue in San Francisco, far from home.

Fortunately, it wasn't – even though he'd emerged a confused amnesiac. Once he'd left Earth, in this new body for the first time, he'd had time to consider things. The Seventh had been old, weary and complacent about the threats posed by the universe. He'd lost that keen edge which had been so prevalent in the early days. And now, here was this new Doctor – his eyes fresh and new, and ready to discover the universe all over again.

Maybe that's where he'd gone wrong – he was far too naïve in this Eighth body, he thought. He hadn't seen the danger until it had been too late to do anything about it – and even then, he shunned that which the Seventh would have been so ready and willing to tackle. If the Time War had happened when _he_ was the Doctor, the little Scottish schemer… Who knew how things might have turned out?

But that wasn't the way things were – the Eighth was the Doctor during the War, and there was nothing he could do about it. Well, there was now, he realised as he looked at the Sister before him, holding out the golden chalice full of life-giving elixir. That was the thing, it always was with regeneration – what sort of life would it be?

 _Make me a Warrior now._

This time he had a choice. Was he doing the right thing? He thought so, at least – the universe had no need for the Doctor; it needed someone willing to do more than he ever could. There was no room for pacifists in this War, not anymore. Pacifism wasn't going to stop the Daleks, or the Time Lords for that matter – only a fool would imagine such a thing.

He'd started out so promising. There'd been Charley, of course – he'd saved her from an air disaster, this new body's compassion overriding the strong sense of morality the Seventh had felt towards the Web of Time. Now that he thought about it, he'd done an extraordinarily reckless thing in saving her. But did he regret it for a moment?

There'd been others, of course. Lucie – now there was an irony. Now it was his turn to die in a spaceship crash. Liv and Helen, Mary, C'rizz, Tamsin and Molly, and dear Josie Day…

And now there was the woman was lying on the stone in front of him, Cass was her name. He looked down at her face – she didn't look dead. She just looked like she was asleep, perhaps he could wake her up? It was useless to even try, but who could blame him, he who stood on the brink of death – beyond the brink of death, in fact, this time. The universe had to allow him a moment of desperation

His optimism had been his downfall, in the end. Compassion had been the primary trait he'd urged himself to display in this life, the most overriding part of his nature this time around. And it had at last led him to death's door – that insistent refusal to leave the door, to leave Cass alone on the ship to face her death, even with his TARDIS standing just a few feet behind him, offering him a way out of this. Surely she would listen to sense, surely; if there was just enough time…

And then everything was over, just like that.

When he'd come to, the first thing he'd noticed was the pain – his cells had been dead for about half an hour, by his estimation. His entire body ached with it, and it simply wasn't fading. There were other pains, dull and faint – but there. The kidneys, the liver… none of it was working properly. He was in dire need of a medical bay – but even that might not be enough. He'd awoken in unfamiliar surroundings, a cave it seemed. Someone was singing. And seemingly, regeneration wasn't an option this time.

Then she'd appeared – the angel of death. Ohila was her name, he thought – the leader of the Sisterhood of Karn, and the last person he wanted to see in this moment of weakness. He recognised her robes almost instantly – and he knew what that meant for him. The elixir… that was what he needed. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew the truth – he was dead, and there was only one thing that could change that.

She was trying to tempt him now – to give in to the devil. The Doctor was a good man, that was the whole point – but what if he became something that wasn't the Doctor? What depths could he sink to then? The very thought struck deeply at his core – but he knew that the Doctor wasn't going to be able to end the War. Something worse was needed.

And what if he couldn't pull himself out of it, after – if there was even going to be an 'after'? What if this was where the Doctor ended, forevermore – in a dark, smoky cave on Karn, with no friends and no TARDIS, and no hope? He feared that if he gave into the darker side of his nature, that the light side would never be able to reassert itself when the time came… He remembered the Valeyard all too well.

There was no other way. There was no point in deluding himself. They were all gone, his friends… He was alone in the universe again. This was the only way – the universe was dying, and it was up to him to stop it. The suffering had gone on for far too long.

Was he doing the right thing? That was the question on his mind as he raised the chalice to his lips and drank the elixir. The chalice clattered to the floor as he dropped it, and felt the familiar burning sensation that accompanied regeneration. The golden light began to shine along his hands, curling through the collar and cuffs of his shirt, enveloping him.

As the Eighth gave way to the ninth, the Doctor couldn't help thinking that he was making the biggest mistake of his lives.

 _Physician, heal thyself._

* * *

 ** _A/N:_ Ah, the Eighth Doctor. Definitely my favourite of the Doctors, and desperately in need of at least one more television adventure. His Big Finish stuff is great, but the 'Night of the Doctor' just proves that we need more of Eight on TV. Moffat or Chibnall, make it happen! A Time War miniseries, or even a 'Two Doctors' style episode with Twelve (if the Eighth Doctor meets the Twelfth, I will be able to die happy). Just something longer than seven minutes, and with better writing than the TV Movie. Is it too much to ask?**

 **Anywho, this concludes the first 'two-shot' in this collection. I suppose I could have released it as one chapter, with a break line in between, but I think I preferred it for this story. It seems better this way, I dunno. Let me know what you think. If it's well received, I'll do more connected oneshots. If not, then nothing changes :-)**

 **Please leave a review, it helps so much to keep me writing. Next release _should_ see a return to the lighter, funnier stuff last seen in _A Hipflask and a Smartphone._ Gosh, that seems like a long time ago, things got a little heavy since then. That was definitely NOT intentional..**


	9. The Hangover

**A/N: This is a sequel to 'A Hipflask and A Smartphone', the third installment in this collection. If you are of a nervous disposition or are offended by or scared of any of the following, please do not read any further: a) swearing/bad language/potty mouthedness/any derivative thereof, b) alcohol, c) Scottish Time Ladies, d) sarcasm in large quantities, f) Scotland, g) people missing out the letter 'e' in alphabetical lists, 7) inconsistency, i) over-long comedic lists, j) utterly shite attempts at comedic writing or k) pointlessly obscure references to the finer points of Doctor Who canon.**

 **Still here? _Wonderful._ Now, if you're sitting comfortably, we shall begin.**

* * *

 ** _The Hangover_**

Missy's head was resting against the train window, her eyes blinking lazily once every few minutes. She briefly contemplated killing one of her fellow passengers, just to lighten the mood - but then she remembered that she had to find her TARDIS, which was currently located in Edinburgh - and if she gave into the temptation of murder, UNIT would probably catch her again. And that simply wasn't acceptable.

The train journey might _\- just might -_ have been bearable if the Doctor had allowed her to keep her hip flask. A TARDIS was one thing - large enough to squeeze more space into - but a hip flask, something so small and with such a narrow aperture? It had been a _masterful_ piece of spatial engineering. Not to mention that it had contained her precious supply of whisky… without which a head-splitting hangover had begun to make it's presence felt.

Time Lords had a much faster metabolism than humans - the inebriating effects of alcohol wore off much faster for them. Unfortunately, given the amount of alcohol it took to get a Time Lord drunk - and Missy had been very drunk earlier in the day - their hangovers were much, much worse.

So it was as the train finally pulled into the station at Edinburgh. Missy had been offered an aspirin by a young student-type with a Scottish accent as they crossed the border, obviously having recognised the symptoms of a hangover - his accent reminded her too much of the Doctor, so she told him in no uncertain terms to go away (' _fuck off before I feed you to an Ogron through a straw')._ Besides - to clear her head, Missy would have required around six buckets full of the little white pills.

The train having finally came to a stop, Missy heaved herself up from the seat, and pushed past the bemused commuters and onto the platform. She ignored the insults of one businessman - she briefly toyed with the idea of vapourising him, but eventually decided that she couldn't be bothered reaching into her pocket to retrieve her tissue compression eliminator. So she simply walked on.

She'd almost made it out of the building, _almost,_ but simply wasn't to be. The reason - _he_ was here.

It wasn't the one she'd left in London, thank Rassilon - no, it would be a long time before she sought him out again, since he'd thrown away her flask. No, it was the insufferable one from years ago - the one with the curls, teeth and _agonisingly_ colourful scarf.

Missy weighed up the options in her head - well, as much as she could, since there already seemed to be a terrific weight pushing down on her cranium thanks to the hangover. There were three options - push him onto the train tracks and hope a passing express did the job for her; vapourise him with the TCE and have it over and done with while he suspected nothing; or try and sneak past and hope he didn't notice her. As boring as it seemed, Missy was beginning to opt for the third option - when the Doctor made the decision for her.

"Hello!" he beamed as he approached. "It's not often you meet a Time Lady in a train station. I'm the Doctor."

"I know that," Missy muttered.

"Oh, really?" said the Doctor, that infuriating grin still on his face. "A fan?"

Missy looked at him with fire in her eyes.

"A fan?" she said, before screeching. "A fan? You don't even know who I am, do you? I might not have the beard, or the dodgy tunics anymore, but I still thought you'd recognise me!"

"You're the Master?" the Doctor said, the grin finally disappearing from his face to be replaced by one of shock. He looked up and down her figure for a few moments, before marshalling himself and restoring his grin. "How progressive!"

"Is that all you have to say?" Missy frowned - maybe it was the headache, but she was disappointed with his reaction. "'How progressive?' Listen here, we can't all live in the seventies or eighties - you're a time traveller: get with the times man!"

"But what are you doing here?" the Doctor continued, a frown growing on his face. "One of your schemes, hmm? Trying to take over the world, as usual I imagine?"

"If you must know," said Missy, "Mummy has a _dreadfully_ sore head, for which you are almost entirely responsible - or will be, one day. I have only one goal - try and remember where in this godforsaken city I've left my TARDIS, and go and have a nice long bath. Normal service and the quest for universal domination will resume tomorrow - and not a second before. I assure you, I won't be causing any trouble today."

"Have you been at the Silver Devastation Whisky again?" the Doctor asked in a knowing tone.

"It's not a crime!" Missy shouted rather more loudly than she'd intended to, before stalking away from him, her headache having grown considerably worse since she'd gotten off the train. The Doctor was left standing in the concourse, looking terribly confused and not at all sure what to do - his mind was made up when the final call for his train was sent over the loudspeaker and he had to dash across the platform to make it through the doors.

* * *

Missy wandered through the streets of Edinburgh, searching for her ship - she knew she'd left it _somewhere_ near Royal Mile, she just wasn't sure where. She remembered a little of her day here before going to London - Pokemon Go had brought her to a few of the city's more famous landmarks (she'd caught a terrifically powerful Haunter near Mary King's Close), so she decided to search around those. The problem was, thanks to the effects of the Silver Devastation Whisky, she wasn't quite sure which order she'd visited them in - or where she'd parked her TARDIS. Or what it looked like.

Fortunately, she was symbiotically paired with the ship - she could _just about_ sense it through the fog of her hangover - but she was still unable to pinpoint it's exact location. She had a rough knowledge of the city's layout in her head, and where she'd been - it was just a matter of hauling her aching body around these infernal streets.

The first stop was to the statue of Greyfriars Bobby at Candlemakers Row - why on Earth the humans would want to celebrate a _dog_ of all things, she had no idea. Nonetheless, it had yielded her a decent-enough Arcanine, so she really shouldn't complain. She found the statue easily enough, but there was no sign of her TARDIS. She could still hear it calling to her, so decided to have a look around for a while longer.

"Maybe it's the statue," Missy muttered to herself as she approached the likeness of the little dog. She decided then that she hated the thing - it's smug, straight-backed little pose was annoying her, and if it did turn out to be her TARDIS, she was going to give the old girl a damned good scolding for choosing such an inappropriate disguise, before hotwiring the chameleon circuit back to one of the older designs it had adopted over the years - maybe the grandfather clock again…

As she grew closer, she realised that the statue was not her TARDIS at all - but there was still _something_ nearby. She attempted to focus her mind, and managed to deduce… Oh, not again.

"Where is it, where is it, where is it…" Missy muttered as she searched the street - she could hear that _infernal_ machine around here somewhere…

She found it parked in an alcove near the Greyfriars Kirkyard. It was still a vibrant blue - that god-awfully annoying blue - and it's lights burned brightly - POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX. But which Doctor was it?

Her question was soon answered - a colourful explosion of a coat rounded the corner, and glared at her.

"You!" the Doctor shouted, pointing a finger at Missy. "Get away from my TARDIS!"

"By Omega! My eyes!" Missy squealed in mock horror. "Did you raid the wardrobe of a _Joseph_ production, or something? What in the name of the Other do you think you're wearing, man? And god, the hair..."

"Excuse me!" the Doctor cried, affronted. "This is the height of fashion in certain quarters of the galaxy - at least I don't look like a demonic Mary Poppins!"

Missy gasped.

"You take that back! I won't be lectured on fashion choices by _you_ of all people!" she said, wagging a finger at the Doctor. "I always knew you were repressing certain feelings back on Gallifrey when we were at the Academy, but did you really have to let them show like this?!"

The Doctor blushed furiously.

"What are you doing here, Master?" he asked, attempting to divert her attentions.

"Don't change the subject!" Missy said. "But if you must know, my intentions are pure. I've lost my TARDIS - I know it's around here somewhere, but I'm not sure exactly where."

"Poppycock!" the Doctor exclaimed. "You're symbiotically linked, aren't you? Finding your TARDIS should be a doddle - what are you really up to, hmm?"

"I may," said Missy, "have a _slight_ hangover. It might have involved a bigger-on-the-inside hip flask and a lifetime supply of Silver Devastation Whisky."

"Silver Devastation Whisky?" said the Doctor, followed by a groan. "Not again!"

"Like I told you the first time, if Drax had locked his drinks cabinet when he'd finished with it…" said Missy, but the Doctor cut her off by holding up his hand.

"I don't want to know," he said. "Besides, I don't recognise this body of yours - you're obviously from my future. I suggest we part ways, and never - ever - speak of any of this again. Agreed?"

"Normally, I'd object," said Missy, "but I have the most vengeful hangover, and that coat isn't helping it in any way. I'll be on my way now."

"Hmm, good," said the Doctor, as he stepped back to allow her to step away from the TARDIS.

"Give the Valeyard my love!" Missy called over her shoulder - but the Doctor had already gotten into his TARDIS, so she wasn't sure if he'd heard her or not.

* * *

"This is worse than the Cloisters," Missy grumbled as she searched her way through Mary King's Close, navigating the twisted, claustrophobic alleyways. She was having a difficult enough time avoiding the many tours that seemed to infest the place (although it was a tempting prospect to leap out of the shadows and scare the living bejesus out of the humans, she had to restrain herself).

She could hear the TARDIS somewhat more clearly than when she'd been at the dog statue - she must almost have been on top of it by now…

She turned the corner and walked straight into someone.

"Oh, for god's sake!" she screamed, before cursing herself. She stumbled back and surveyed the man before her… She almost screamed again.

"Hello there," said the Doctor. "I'm terribly sorry, I didn't see you there."

"I've been looking for you," Missy said in a dangerously low voice. "I've got a bone to pick with you, Lord Byron."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" the Doctor asked.

"I should bloody hope so!" Missy shouted. "You threw me into your TARDIS's engines! The Eye of bloody Harmony! Do you have any idea how long it took me to crawl my way back out of that _black hole_ again? It was a black hole you threw me into, just in case you'd forgotten."

"Hang on, it's you?" the Doctor said. "The Master? You've regenerated?"

"No, I got into an argument with a real _bastard_ of a wizard, he cursed me in revenge," said Missy, rolling her eyes. "What do you think happened?!"

"There's really no need to shout," said the Doctor. "In fact, I'd rather you didn't - I'm looking for a legion of Cybermen - they've lain dormant down here for years. You haven't happened to come across them, have you?"

"No, and if I had, you'd be the last person I told," said Missy. "They make for surprisingly efficient minions. Not that I'm in the market for minions, at the moment."

"What are you doing here?" the Doctor asked.

"For the third time today, I'm looking for my TARDIS!" Missy exclaimed. "It involves a hangover, and four of you - yes, I've met four of you today! Just when I thought life couldn't get any worse than being left in an exploding Dalek city, four of you turn up to ruin my day!"

"Quiet!" said the Doctor suddenly. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Missy giggled, before adopting a sarcastic tone. "Is it one of the ghosts?"

"Don't be ridiculous, ghosts aren't real," said the Doctor.

"Tell that to the Cloister Wraiths," said Missy. She turned a corner and ducked into the shadows.

"Master?" the Doctor hissed, as he turned the corner - only to be confronted by an empty alleyway. "Where are you?"

"I'm right behind you!" Missy shouted as she leapt out and grabbed him. She instantly regretted it due to the spike of pain in her head from the quick movement, but it was worth it to feel the Doctor jump to attention and pull away from her - it was doubly worth it when she saw that his face was white as a sheet.

"Awh, is Diddums scared of the ghosts?" Missy cooed.

"Of course not!" the Doctor replied. "Why would I be?"

"Methinks the Wild Bill doth protest too much!" Missy jibed. She sighed a moment later, before looking around. "I'll have to pop off - no TARDIS here."

"What? I can't let you go!" said the Doctor. 'You're probably up to… something!'

"Who the hell d'you think you are?" Missy protested. "Who says you're getting any say in the matter? Watch out, there'll be a tour around that corner in a moment - they don't take too kindly to intruders down here, it's a protected site you know!"

"What?" the Doctor's head whipped around - he could hear a tour guide's voice, not too far away. "Master…"

But when he looked back, the alleyway was empty.

* * *

The ramparts of Edinburgh Castle were mostly empty as the sun was setting - the view across the rest of the city was normally spectacular, but at this point in time, with the last of the sun's light casting it in an array of orange hues, it was nothing short of beautiful.

Not that Missy noticed - her hangover remained unabated, and she was in a furious mood. She'd been all over the castle but there was still no sign of her TARDIS - and there had been another Doctor there, the one with the northern accent and the leather jacket, and some young blond thing hanging on his every word. Thankfully, she'd seen him in enough time and managed to avoid coming into contact - she was sick of the sight of the Doctor today. She could still sense her TARDIS _somewhere_ nearby; she remained unable to place it exactly but she must have been getting close. She would have to give up soon enough - shortly, it would be too dark to go stumbling around the streets of Edinburgh and she'd have to stay in one of those god-awful boarding houses the humans called 'hotels'.

She was just leaving the castle when she heard a familiar noise - a rhythmic, grating sound - and an even more familiar police box appeared atop a concrete plinth at the side of the road.

Missy gritted her teeth. 'Oh f-'

The TARDIS's door opened and a young man with floppy hair and a ridiculous bow tie emerged, followed by a young woman with dark hair and a face that Missy decided she could never get tired of punching.

'Oh great, this is all I need,' Missy muttered, holding her hand to her throbbing head. The Doctor and Clara were walking towards her, obviously heading towards the castle. Missy put her head down, hoping that she could pass by unnoticed, but - as had been the case all day - luck was most definitely not on her side.

'Doctor, that's her! The woman in the shop, the one who gave me your phone number!'

Missy threw her arms up into the air and fell to her knees as she let out a roar of anger and frustration.

'For! The! Love! Of! God!' she yelled. 'Can't you just leave me alone for two blessed minutes? Haven't I suffered enough today?'

'It's you, isn't it?' the Doctor said, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand was halfway into his pocket, obviously reaching for the oversized gimmick he liked to call his sonic screwdriver - what use the Doctor imagined it would be against her was beyond Missy's comprehension entirely, since it was nothing more than a glorified technicians tool. 'The Master! What are you doing here? I bet it's some sort of evil plan, isn't it?'

'Oh, stop being such an overdramatic twat!' Missy shouted at him. 'Good god, do you ever listen to yourself? "I'm the Doctor, last of the Time Lords, I must be sad because it makes ladies swoon over me" - Christ on a bloody bike, you're the most annoying Doctor I've had to deal with all day, and trust me sonny - you're ten to a penny today.'

Missy found herself both amused and irked at the same time - the stunned look on the Doctor's face was comic, but the fact that Clara was trying to suppress laughter made Missy want to move on from punching-repeatedly-in-the-face to full particle dispersal.

'Master, what are you doing here?' the Doctor asked, having recovered some (but not nearly enough) of his composure. 'Tell me!'

'If you must know, I've got the mummy, daddy and whole extended family of a hangover, I had to sit on a train full sweaty humans after you confiscated my Silver Devastation Whisky, some little rotter stole my Dratini from right under my very nose, I've lost my TARDIS and to top it all off - I've had to deal with six - yes, six! - versions of you today. It's enough to make one go completely _doo-lally!'_

There was a few moments of silence as the Doctor digested Missy's words. He opened his mouth to say something, but then couldn't find the words.

'Do you want to know something?' said Missy. 'I really, truly could not be arsed with this right now. That is the honest truth - I suggest we go our separate ways, and in your case let the Blinovitch Limitation Effect (or whatever other cack handed excuse you come up with) take it's course and forget all about this. I've got a TARDIS to find, and I'm sure you two have got some infuriatingly awkward sexual tension to develop. Good day to the pair of you.'

'Master, wait!' The Doctor shouted, but she simply ignored him and began to walk down the Royal Mile. It was a few seconds before she heard him began talking to Clara again.

'Remember where we left the TARDIS, Clara - there's more than one police box on Royal Mile, we wouldn't want to get them mixed up.'

And then everything fell into place in Missy's head. Her eyes ran down Royal Mile - positioned at regular intervals, on identical stone plinths to the one the Doctor's TARDIS had landed on, were a series of wooden huts, painted a variety of colours. Most appeared to be stalls, either selling food or tacky trinkets but Missy spotted one, a little way down the street, with an 'out of order' sign hanging on the front.

'My God!' she shrieked, running up to it - this was most _definitely_ her TARDIS. 'What in the name of all that is sacred do you think you're doing? A police box! For shame - what if somebody had seen? What on earth will the neighbours say…'

She pushed the door open and went straight into her control room. She quickly sealed the doors and put the TARDIS in flight.

'We're going to have a long, hard talk about what constitutes an acceptable disguise,' she told her TARDIS, before spotting the coffee machine in the corner of the control room - it was practically winking at her. She crossed the room towards it and began to use its controls (fifty three thousand different flavours) when there was a noise from across the room. She turned slowly, already knowing what she was going to find but not wishing to expedite the experience in any way.

'Ah, hello there - I'm the Doctor. I seem to have stowed away in this rather fine TARDIS of yours.'

She looked up and down at this final straw, dressed in his trainers and pinstripe suit. Then she mustered the only words she could think of.

'Doctor?'

'Yes?'

'I've had the most disastrous day and I simply want to be left alone. Do kindly piss off.'


End file.
